Page 72 of House of the Raven
“All right,” I agree. “But you have to let me help.” I’m not adept in the kitchen, but I remember a few things Mother taught me when I was little. She enjoyed cooking, and once a week, she took over the palace’s kitchen to prepare something delicious and teach Amira and me what she knew. She never got a chance to show us everything she wanted.
They all cheer, and Esmeralda and I set to work on dinner.
The dinner is truly a feast compared to what they’re used to.
Under the glow of a single candle, Gaspar slices a hearty loaf of bread that takes center stage. Warmth spills from within as the soft center is revealed. A bowl of stew consisting of lentils, onions, and garlic, simmered in broth, sits in front of me, its savory scent tickling my nose.
A small plate of goat cheese sits nearby, and judging by how sparingly they use it, I can tell it’s a luxury they can barely afford. I refrain from taking any of it.
The tender lentils melt in my mouth, their earthy flavor filling me with pride. I helped cook them!
I sip water from earthenware cups to wash everything down, and when I’m done, it all settles in my stomach like a load of stones. I yawn hugely and, for the first time, wonder where I’m supposed to sleep. There is one narrow cot against the back of the room, big enough for one person. I assume that’s where Leonor sleeps, but I have no idea where Esmeralda lays her head down to rest.
“You look ‘bout ready to pass out,” Esmeralda says.
Gaspar stretches his arms over his head and makes a sound like a bear getting ready to hibernate. “I should go. My bones are so weary from so much travel that I wish I could stay right here.” He looks at Leonor when he says this, and I’m sure he wants to addwith youat the end of that sentence.
He drags his feet as he heads for the door. Leonor limps along. They exchange a few quiet words before he leaves, and then it’s only the three of us.
Esmeralda and I make quick work of the dishes, while her mother gets ready for bed behind a curtained corner of the room. She emerges wearing a nightgown that was once white. Her gray-streaked hair is down, flowing in waves down to her waist. She’s still a beautiful woman. I can only imagine how much lovelier she was when she was younger. Esmeralda definitely takes after her, and I presume Gaspar never stood a chance after he laid eyes on her.
Leonor settles on the bed. Esmeralda kisses her forehead and bids her good night. I stand in the middle of the room, eyes roving over the floor for a spot where to rest.
“C’mon.” Esmeralda walks to the other side of a wooden beam and starts climbing a ladder I hadn’t noticed. When she reaches the top, she pushes a trapdoor open and climbs through it. There’s a loft cleverly concealed up there.
She pokes her head through the hole. “What are you waiting for?”
I make my way up the ladder and climb into Esmeralda’s space. It isn’t big, and I have to crawl on all fours to avoid hitting the ceiling, which is only a few inches above my head. Once I settle down, however, I find that Esmeralda’s nest of blankets and pillows is quite comfortable.
“Welcome to my Nido,” she says. “It isn’t much, but it’s mine.”
“It’s nice.”
“Don’t lie. I’m sure you’re used to far better.”
“Nothing was ever really mine,” I say bitterly.
“Bah, forget all of that. Think of the future.” She’s sitting, taking all her bracelets off and placing them in a ceramic bowl. They clink one after the other until she’s removed all of them. It’s quite the task. She then removes her heavy necklace and earrings, and finally lies down, facing me. “Tomorrow is your day. Who knows what it’ll bring.”
I blink slowly as exhaustion weighs me down.
“Sleep good,” Esmeralda whispers as I drift away.
I’m not sure what causes me to wake up, but my eyes snap open, and I find that I’m alone. I sit up abruptly, and instinctively flinch as the ceiling appears to loom closer. I had forgotten where I was.
I listen intently. The house is utterly silent.
Crawling, I approach the trapdoor, which is open. I stick my head through it and look down. It’s dark, and I can’t see very well, but I don’t think Esmeralda is down there. I glance toward her mother’s bed.
Is it empty?
Is that just a bundle of blankets?
My heart lurches and starts pounding. Something is wrong. I stuff my feet into my boots as quickly as I can, then scramble down the ladder. Breathing hard, I rush to the window and pull the curtain back. The first thing I see freezes my heart, and I can hardly draw breath.
Guardia Bastien Mora is here.
I retreat from the window, taking several steps back. Hands pressed to my chest, I’m surprised to feel the wild thumping that knocks against my breastbone.
